


Entomology

by Mashables



Category: World of None
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mashables/pseuds/Mashables
Summary: Tilt's been lost for quite a while--still trying to find his place in the world. The friends he's made along the way have come and gone, yet have left him none the wiser. What says an arrogant bundle of butterflies helps him find himself?
Relationships: Tilt/May





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is both my first and by request, so here's hoping I can do both the characters and request right lol. Please feel free to leave criticism and thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In a world of conflict and chaos, times of peace and serenity are a dime a dozen and even rarer in someplace untouched by the scars of battle. Streets and common sidewalks have morphed from their sleek design of concrete jungles and symmetric appeal to makeshift battlegrounds that reflect the aftermath of what could've begun as a simple disagreement. Power and strength are the deciding factors for those who will continue to roam the world and shape the environment around them as they see fit. That is the law of the land, and its change is unforeseeable any time soon.

However, for those that truly look--truly seek salvation and sanctuary, these places exist. Small pockets in the ever-so combative world, that hold places of calm and peace, and truly express the elegant beauty that is hidden from predatory eyes. Areas full of docile life and fauna, sharing harmony within their ecosystems, completely unaffected by the outside world around them; those that find such places wonder upon their ability to stay so pristine--though, most take to simply enjoying its presence.

One particular individual has been a rather frequent visitor to such a place; the lush green that populates the ground comes to match the green leaves that block the sun's powerful rays, creating spotted patterns of shade upon the forest's floor. Healthy full trees act as pillars of life, clearing the atmosphere and air of the outside world's industrial climate. Running teal water flows from a nearby creek, letting into an open pond rich with small amphibious and aquatic life, feeding off the plants and greenery that reside within. Cool breezes pass by, whistling within the air and blowing gentle leaves from the trees, finalizing a scene of pure nature, untouched.

Well, as untouched as it can be. Tilt rested here quite often, actually opting to stay on occasion. After awaking with his amnesia, traveling to find himself and understand the world around him, he always sought a place to relax and clear his mind. And boy, was that a difficult task--the constant conflicts that would occur on a day-to-day basis made any chance of calm impossible, while actively trying to avoid any form of confrontation due to his... affliction. He has had some luck in finding allies along the way--sticks who gave him a piece of their time, educating him and providing him a place of solace, at least for a short while.

Though, it never lasted--nothing good seemed to; a fellow in a trapper and goggles, a brotherly white stick, and friend that always carried a trendy scarf... they were as close to influences that he had as they were friends. But... things change, and people move on to better things, better people--at least, that was what Tilt believed. He didn't mind though. He... tried not to mind it. Sticks have their lives and their interest--it wasn't their fault if he wasn't a part of it.

One thing that he always knew would keep him company though, were his bugs. Tilt was able to find a squatter in the city he could always go back to, storing his collection of small critters and crawlies he found. Daily, he would go out and find food both for himself and his insectoid friends, having a clear memory of what bug consumed what precisely, what was edible for himself, and where to find such things; it was an odd thought to him some of the time, but the yellow stick never questioned it.

The few thoughts that had passed were dashed momentarily, as Tilt looked to the rustle of the leaves above him. He rested at the base of his favorite tree, that held the perfect breaking of shade to both keep himself warm and not be bombarded by the fiery ball of heat in the sky, all while cradling a jar for collecting bugs. Although the day was like any other, the yellow stick couldn't help but feel something was... different. Off, in a way that he couldn't quite define.

His colliding thoughts came to a head at the sight of something he hadn't noticed in the forest beforehand. Pure white, devoid of any color; a snowy butterfly fluttered a few meters ahead of him, its wings flapping effortlessly within the air against the light breeze, seemingly tethered to the tree it floated beside. Tilt's eyes were wide with wonder and admiration--he hadn't seen any arthropod of this type, even with its similar look to other species. The yellow stick's mind went into an analytic frenzy, the parasite maneuvering atop his head in reaction to the sudden burst of mental activity.

Carefully, Tilt made a quiet and calm approach, eyes watching the small insectoid as his hands worked diligently to remove the cap from his jar. The pristine and untouched marble white that encompassed the bug's wings were captivating, yet so mysterious. Nevertheless, the yellow stick wanted to do his best to understand it, and where it had come from--although the area was habitable, the fluttering insect was a new addition to the forest Tilt hadn't expected. Though, it seemed it wouldn't be the only thing to be unexpected.

Freezing, the yellow stick's vision snapped to the other side of the tree, catching slow but gradual movement. He had to do a double-take, only to see that--there was more? Slowly and steadily, more of the white butterflies made their appearance, expanding out exponentially, sprouting forth like a white lily in spring. Tilt's eyes watched with astonishment as they floated outward, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. They moved in unison, orbiting around one another in harmony, creating a sight of elegance that couldn't be compared.

Tilt began moving forward once more, eyes glued to the mass of white ahead of him. Just as the yellow stick came into arms reach, the grouping of white exploded outward, spreading around the wooden tree they originated from. Tilt's head whipped around to follow the flow of the mysterious insectoids, as they regrouped into a flow of pure alabaster, before beginning to head into the sky.

All that remained in the forest was a lone yellow stick, looking in awe of what had just occurred. The only evidence being in the palm of his hands, as a small white butterfly fluttered softly in the jar.

* * *

Now May, outside of work, was always somewhat of a mystery. He never had friends to meet up with in his downtime, or joined those in the mercenary guild for drinks or a night out--I mean, who'd really let him join anyway? His trust was one that was difficult to place and never cemented. So it was no surprise that the butterfly stick tended to up and disappear at the drop of a hat off the job, with no one's interest the wiser.

The true question at hand though was... where?

Far away from the world, from conflict and constant backstabbing, and the life of a mercenary was one such place that preserved its natural beauty. May happened to stumble upon said place after finishing one assignment, and proudly claimed the place as his to visit. After every operation or so--or just simply pestering his peers--he'd escape to this green utopia for solace and peace, something he didn't get enough of but was slowly coming to appreciate.

With every visit, May would fall into their thoughts, that or simply enjoy the change of scenery. The normal concrete jungle that the merc was used to filled him with a sense of dullness and drab, always looking to somehow use his flamboyance to fill the gray void with some excitement--well, at least what he considered exciting anyway; his peers didn’t exactly seem to match his level of impish behavior, less so tolerate it.

That aside, the worst of times came when he would be called in for an assignment--these tasks were made from prioritized investors or those with the largest bank account. It didn’t matter who was chosen or if they were already busy--if the rank and skill matched the job and their mercenary commander deemed them fit, it became their priority. Unfortunately for May, that became the case as a beeper tucked away within his necktie made itself known, only loud enough for the white stick to hear.

Giving a frustrated sigh, they lifted themselves, moving from their comfortable position resting at the base of a tree. Slowly but surely, bits and pieces of the white stick broke off, forming into small arthropods of the same color that fluttered around one another. If there was anything that May enjoyed the most, it was his flair and elegance that shone through his flow of butterflies, something that took an extended time to perfect and master.

Enjoying the small show he put on for himself, he finally took off in a burst of scattered white, heading straight for the mercenary corps. It had only taken a short time to reach the building he frequented ever so often, forming back into his full self once coming through the main doors. Part of him felt… off for some reason as he landed, but he swiftly ignored it as he had more important matters to attend to. Per his landing, he met eyes with several scowling, irritated, and generally negative glances, only to give playful greetings and bows in stride.

The mercenary corps building was one of medium stature, placed right in the middle of the city. It was unassuming enough to avoid any meddling with law enforcement, but well-kept and finely accentuated to show that it was no slum. Post boards littered the main space, listing numerous jobs and tasks, a few of which held interested gazes and contemplative looks. A large variety of sticks from all walks of life populated the area, expressing its diversity and unique collective of lost souls that had bonded over a united code of financed soldiers. To any outside eye, it would’ve looked to be a band of corrupt sticks who had sold out their morals long ago--those within view themselves as brothers in arms under the common banner of currency.

Hence May’s disposition and unaffected character to the glares--one merc can hate another all they want, but within places of enlistment, conflict is forbidden. Nevertheless, the white stick approached a nearby kiosk designed to give specific tasks to those already assigned. Going through the process of inputting information, he perked up at the sound of another stick calling out to him, turning his head slightly.

“May! You prick! You took my bounty, bastard!” The nondescript stick growled with visible frustration, his nearby acquaintances glaring at May while attempting to calm their colleague down. A small smirk flashed on the accused stick’s face, turning into a smug grin.

“Oh? I did?” May finished inputting his info for the machine to finally export his task onto a small receipt. With a quick tear, the white stick playfully flaunted the piece of paper in front of the others, before beginning to make his exit. “You should probably be quicker next time then. Mediocre and slow aren’t very impressive looking job qualities.” With the stick looking positively furious, the white stick made his departure with a devilish grin.

Exiting through the building’s main double doors, May scanned the receipt with a curious look as he read amongst the lines. “...Acquisition of subject… Needed alive… Required protection?” At the last read, the stick paused with a dumbfounded look. He wasn’t trained in protective assignments, much less did he enjoy doing anything with his targets beyond neutralizing them. Eyes continued to scan the document to show some sort of sign of error, but none was present; all left to provide was a black and white depiction of his assignment, with their description detailed within the subtext of the image.

“...'Tilt',” May muttered, before looking up. Oddly, he… he could’ve sworn he had seen this person before. But it made no sense--he didn’t recognize meeting them before today, not even having a clue since he left for his assignment--

That when it hit him; why he felt off when he arrived, why the face looked familiar. The butterfly stick utilized his power, looking through the eyes of his arthropod only to slightly jump from the sight that met his vision. Objectively speaking, he was face to face with his target, who seemed to be… admiring his butterfly? From what the white stick could tell, it had been trapped in a jar. Why? He couldn’t say--there wasn’t any logical explanation.

A playful grin matched May’s face, as he returned his vision back to his person. Well, there was the hard part down.

* * *

A busted up, worn down shack would be the barebones explanation of Tilt’s ‘humble abode’. The yellow stick made an assortment of quirky (mostly bug related) decorations to spice up the squatter, with several jars to act as the home’s forefront; within each was some form of insectoid, and those that were empty held labels of the soon-to-be submitted bug. It… wasn’t much, but it was what Tilt could call home; the only out of place object that rested within the home was a single light blue arrow that he owed a certain someone.

The yellow stick rested with his abdomen flush against the cool ground, feet kicking lightly in the air behind him as he analyzed the floating butterfly in front of him. His mind raced between the different species’ that he had studied while taking note of the insect’s minute details; the fascination for bugs always existed, but this admiration was different, Tilt just couldn’t place why…

“ _ Ahem. _ ” The sound of an echoed grunt sent a spiral of fear into Tilt, the parasite resting atop his head moving into a defensive state as spikes jutted from his skull. Flipping onto his back, the yellow stick came face-to-face with a mysterious white stick bearing a smug grin. With a single motion, the stick in question raised an accusatory finger, pointing towards Tilt. “You have something I want.”


	2. Moving Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tilt seems to have received a surprise visitor—one that expects something from him at that.

“You have something I want.” The posed question reverberated around the space, placing a cold silence within the room only accompanied by the light sounds of city ambience outside. A short stare off began between the two, May waiting for some sort of reply with Tilt wondering who the random stick was. It wasn’t until the white stick in question flipped his hand over in a manner to collect, face turning sour from growing impatience as Tilt backed away slightly in palpable fear of this newcomer--and himself. “Well?”

The parasitic stick looked down for a moment, contemplating what the intruder wanted from him--he hadn’t recalled anything of his past worthwhile, so he assumed it wasn’t information. Running through a shortlist of things while in his state of fight-or-flight, he looked back up timidly while pointing to his head. “...We… we’re bounded--we cannot be separated.” He stated plainly, regarding the parasite.

May had a clear look of confusion, hand faltering from the odd statement. “What? We? Who’s we?” The white stick took a moment to look around the space to see if Tilt was referring to anyone else within the same squatter they were in, but there weren’t any signs of other guests. Dismissing that, May placed his hands to his hips. “I don’t care who you’re hallucinating bozo, I want what’s _mine._ ”

There was another confused look from Tilt, who came to meet eyes once more with the white stick in front of him. It was then something clicked, and he got up sharply. “Oh! I know! I should have realized it sooner!” He exclaimed, before turning to a nearby shelf. The butterfly stick had a look of disdain, seeing the jar on the ground with his butterfly within it--but felt a tinge of curiosity to see what the yellow stick had to offer. It wasn’t until they came waltzing up to him that his nose scrunched up in irritation to what was presented.

“I know you had this arrow beforehand, and well… I wanted to keep it in case you--oh.” The light blue weapon was torn away from Tilt’s hands before he could finish, with May sending it flying back behind him. There was a look of concern coming from Tilt, even more so as a distant ‘my leg!’ made it seem like the arrow made its mark. But before anything could be said, May took a moment to inhale before placing on a grating smile with a stern finger pointing to a specific jar ahead.

“ _Give me the butterfly, dingus._ ” Gritted teeth and an iron will were all it took to avoid releasing the white stick’s frustration, as he practically glared impatient daggers at Tilt. To give better context, the white stick lifted a hand to disperse into butterflies, which floated around him seamlessly. It took a moment before things clicked for Tilt, as he scrambled back to the mason jar to release the piece of May.

“Ah—sorry! I didn’t realize—I thought it was just a regular butterfly!” Tilt’s scrambled excuses echoed back to May as the jar’s lid was cracked open, the gentle insect inside fluttering back to May. In a swift motion, May’s hand reformed, taking in all the pieces of him that swarmed by, as he gave a content smile.

“Much better. Now, I need something else.” Tilt’s face fell back into an inquisitive state, before looking around his home for anything that the visitor may want. May simply pointed at Tilt, who followed the finger to his chest. “Somebody’s _quite_ interested in meeting you.” A pause entered the room, with the yellow stick pointing back to himself incredulously. “Yes, you.”

A flurry of hands waved in front of Tilt, as he showed his disapproval. “I-I don’t know, I--I’m not really s-sure I should be around o-others, it’s… it’s d-dangerous.” He stammered nervously. The smile on May’s face faded, with his hand lowering. Tilt rubbed the back of his head nervously, before taking a step back. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t want to harm anyone r-really--”

In a sudden burst of white, May exploded into a myriad of butterflies, much to Tilt’s surprise. Soon enough, they came to swarm around the yellow stick, who watched in a mix of curiosity and hesitance as the parasite within him made its anxious nature known. Ever so slightly, small bumps protruded from the grey half of his skull, as a face formed within the mass of white. A smug grin sprouted forth, as the makeup of May’s face came into view, as well as a hand to extend out and grasp Tilt’s chin. “Sorry, but there really isn’t a choice.”

Immediately, the parasite within Tilt reacted, darting out a spike of black. May narrowly had time to dodge it, eyes wide in surprise from the sudden attack--he had assumed the stick was docile, but seeing as otherwise, the white stick quickly sped back and entered a defensive stance. The entire motion only happened within the span of a few seconds, but the world slowed as Tilt watched it all happen, and quickly placed his hands out in placation. “Ah! I-I’m so sorry! I can’t control it! I-I told you I’m dangerous!”

May kept his guard up, listening to the rambles of the yellow stick before him. His gaze turned into a scowl, as he stood in preparation for another attack while his hands dispersed into their arthropod counterparts.”Real sneaky. You wanna do this the hard way? These butterflies aren’t just for show.” He spat, eyes scrutinizing Tilt for any other attack. Tilt continued to try and dissolve the situation.

“P-Please, I d-didn’t mean you any harm--we were just startled! It was a defensive measure!” Tilt explained, before lowering his hands. “I-If it’s really important I… I suppose I can go. I just… I _really_ don’t want to hurt anyone.” The two sticks had a momentary stare-off before May came to retract his butterflies back into his hands. After another moment of contemplation and staring passed, the white stick lowered their guard but kept a stern eye on Tilt.

“I see another spike, and you’re gonna know what a butterfly tastes like. Understand?” The white stick said with deadly sincerity. Tilt could only nod fervently as May gave a final squint before moving back into his flamboyant mannerisms. “Well, with _that_ all sorted, let’s hit the road, hm?” A shaky breath of relief was Tilt’s reply, as the white stick began waltzing out of the small squatter.

“Wait!” A groan, eye roll, and the gritting of teeth were only a sliver of May’s growing frustration, as he turned around at the sudden call. With a quip on the tip of his tongue, the merc was prepared to give a snappy remark before pausing a moment as he noticed what the other stick was doing: opening jars filled with a few random bugs and letting them crawl atop his head. There wasn’t really anything to be said further, and May simply watched with a face twisted in confusion.

Waiting for Tilt to put down the final jar, the yellow stick came to follow May, an array of critters bustling on his head. May sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before leading the two outside. “Let’s go, weirdo.” Tilt wasn’t too upset to leave his home, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety for the new location they were heading to. Before making their final departure, his eye glimpsed at a light blue arrow sticking out of the trash, with a small spot of red not too far away.

He quietly picked the projectile up before rejoining May, much to the other’s distaste.

* * *

  
The two arrived at a nondescript empty area, littered with trash and waste. An empty abandoned warehouse stood in the distance, gated by a wire fence. A look of dread came across the yellow stick, as he looked to May, who looked on with a bored gaze. “What a dump. This _is_ the location though, so… let’s get a move on.” With that, the two sticks began trudging to the foreboding building. A deep seated feeling of dread began to build into the yellow stick, following timidly behind his white counterpart.

Eventually, both sticks reached the building’s main entrance, boarded up and aged from years of neglect and disarray. The white stick scrunched up his nose at the appearance of the door, before lifting a fist to knock against the nearly-rotten wood. Tilt watched with apprehension, as resounding raps reverberated throughout the empty area. A pause of silence was held, as all sense of movement stilled. It wasn’t until a slight creak could be heard that a sign of life emitted from the ghastly building, the door opening slowly but surely to invite the two inside.

With a tentative entrance, the unlikely pair of sticks were greeted with a sight that contrasted the building’s undead appearance; clean and refined brick stuck out from the walls, with a number of pictures and clear windows accenting the space. An unruly cast of sticks casted their varying glances on the newcomers, one in particular standing with an expectant gaze.

“Ah, our guests have arrived.” The smooth sound of one green stick’s voice rang out in the space, as they made their approach. Tilt watched in apprehension, while May looked on unimpressed, as the said stick made their introduction. “I am ViX. This is my home, and I am hoping you’ll enjoy your stay here while under my care. Tilt, isn’t it? We’ve met before I believe; do you remember?”

The stick in question jumped slightly from the mention of his name, before nervously shaking his head at the inquiry, ensuring not to shake off his insectoid passengers. “Uh… n-no, ma’am.” The yellow stick’s shaky voice contrasted with their eyes, casting a curious view upon the crew behind ViX. “If I can ask… who are you all?”

ViX waved a hand. “You’ll come to know them in due time. Until then, Tide here will clean you up before we move forward; I’ll be sure to give you a proper tour of the place.” The stick mentioned stepped forward silently, barely looking at Tilt--much to nervous stick’s dismay. The blue stick simply walked to a side room, opening the door and gesturing inside. Tilt looked around for some sort of confirmation, before reluctantly entering the room with Tide.

At the click of the door’s close, May immediately snapped to ViX. “Hey, word of the wise? Don’t mention that the target is docile when they _aren’t._ Almost lost my head with that black goop on theirs.” The white stick huffed, crossing his arms impatiently. A small twitch of irritation flashed over ViX’s eye at the mention of her friend being ‘goop’, before returning to their calm demeanor.

“Of course. My apologies for the hassle.” A small wave of the hand was the only sign for the rest of the sticks surrounding them to disperse, all of whom did at varying speeds. With them gone, ViX lowered the hand before eying the white stick. “Did you happen to notice any other abnormalities?”

May squinted. “What do I look like, a doctor? I was told to bring him here, and that’s that. I didn’t care for how weird the guy is.” He grumbled. “Dude has a weird thing for bugs and mentioned to himself as we sometimes, mostly when talking about whatever’s on his head--”

“ _We?_ ” ViX held a face of surprise, looking over to the yellow stick’s direction. Regarding the parasite as another entity--a _shared_ one. Could that mean…?

“Hey! Earth to greenie, I’d like my pay.” May snapped, placing his hands on his hips. “I did your task, now pay up.”

ViX’s gaze shifted away from the door, looking increasingly frustrated. “Your job is to bring him here _and_ protect him. The task is unfinished.” May could only look on in agitation, sputtering in his words to argue back, but only failing as ViX’s words fell into place with the assignment’s requirements. The green stick gave a neutral huff before turning away. “If you want to discontinue this job, feel free to do so. However, you’ll only be receiving half of the work you’ve completed thus far. Your choice.” With that, the doctor made her exit, leaving the butterfly stick by his lonesome.

With a simmering anger, May skulked back to the room where his ‘target’ was getting refreshed, greatly regretting ever taking the request. With an aggressive tug, the door ripped open, with May coming upon a sight that threw him from his stupor: the room itself was a well-kept and clean lavatory, included with a bath, shower, toilet, sink, and added toiletries. The one added sight that had made those details insignificant was a crying Tilt sitting on the edge of the ceramic tub, the bugs and insects that sat atop his head appearing crushed underfoot on the floor below. The stick looked relatively cleaner, though it seemed at the expense of his smaller pets.

There was a part of May that winced, mostly out of sympathy for what he had walked in on. The yellow stick that sat afar from him hardly acknowledged his presence, only giving silent sniffles as he covered his face. May entered relaxed, looking Tilt over for any injuries.

“You hurt?” The butterfly stick called to Tilt, only for there to be no response. May inched forward, 

a look of uncertainty holding his gaze. Eventually, Tilt snapped up to see May placing a hand on his shoulder, the spikes on his head coming up slightly before calming at the sight of May. May could only keep his gaze of slight concern, before asking again: “...You hurt anywhere? Tilt?”

To May’s surprise, the yellow stick wrapped their hands around May’s form, continuing their silent cries into their chest. The mercenary looked down with a shocked expression, hands parted in confusion before tentatively patting Tilt on the back. Was… was this how you comfort someone? All of this… over _bugs?_ The number of questions grew, confusing May deeper as he kept to ‘comforting’ Tilt. His feelings of sympathy reluctantly grew, as he looked away to distract himself.

It wasn’t until he felt Tilt lift his head that he looked back down, donning a bored gaze. “You finished cry--...ing?” His eyes softened meeting at Tilt’s teary ones, his irritation fading.

“T-Thank you.” There was a short silence as the two sticks shared a moment looking to one another, before Tilt scrambled back. “Ah! S-Sorry! I didn’t—sorry!” May watched him with a confused glance, before sighing.

“Whatever. It’s fine. Just stop crying.” The merc stood, wiping the tears from his chest with a less than enjoyable look. Tilt rubbed at his eyes, calming himself as he looked to the other stick. “... _Apparently_ , I’m on guard duty for you. Yay me. So don’t get yourself into some random bullshit here, okay?” May gave a wavering glance to Tilt, trying to move past what happened as the yellow stick jumped slightly before nodding fervorously. “Good. Let’s get this tour crap over with so I can go home.”


End file.
